The Lost Cause
by March Madness
Summary: Karkaroff need a way to escape the Dark Lord's attention, and during the summer he finds it. Harry turns up missing just a month into the summer break, leaving a tormented Remus Lupin and moody Severus Snape to find him.
1. An Unweeded Garden

Disclaimer: I don't own anything of Harry Potter aside from the books and a few other memorabilia, which I treasure (sigh). I do own this plot (as per fanfiction authors' copyright authority). I do own my computer. I do own a great deal of guilt for allowing Fugitive Prince to wither while this plot, and many other plots, took control of my body and put me up for adoption to the muses. Please refer to this for the following chapters, and for urges to spit at me when this story (or any other story) is updated while Fugitive Prince is not (double-sigh, if it's at all possible).

Summary: Karkaroff need a way to escape the Dark Lord's attention, and during the summer he finds it. Harry turns up missing just a month into the summer break, leaving a tormented Remus Lupin and moody Severus Snape to find him. What they thought they'd be dealing with: Death Eaters, magic, the occasional wacky muggle. What they didn't: huge white wolves, attacks on the Burrow, and an irritable Lord Voldemort. Well, maybe they counted on that.

****

**The Lost Cause**

By March Madness

Chapter One: An Unweeded Garden

HAMLET: O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable, seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, that grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature possess it merely. That it should come to this!

-Hamlet, Shakespeare

Remus followed after Harry the entire way the boy went, first down the terminal and through the crowds to the parked lot, and then into the muggles' car. He stared as the car slowly backup up and began to drive away, kept his eye locked until the sight drifted too far for even his wolf eyes to see.

Beside him, Moody gave a little grunt and tapped the ground importantly with his staff, slipping the bowler hat around to make sure it still covered his magical eye. Tonks looked at them seriously. They'd all seen the smile slip from Harry's face.

Remus was worried about his late best friend's only son, more worried than he'd ever been about a single person in his life. It went deeper than some attachment to "Prongs's kid" or "Padfoot's godson." It was honest worry from Remus's own personal attachment with the boy.

"Every three days, then?" he said first, breaking the silence between the three.

"We'll set up a schedule," Moody took up the conversation immediately. He began to walk out onto the street into the sun, the others following as they got out of the way of bustling muggles. "Week-block rotations. Check in a few days every week, completely random so they won't be prepared to meet us."

He looked around surreptitiously, then pulled out a Quick Quote Quills to dictate. "I'll take the first week, Tonks the next. Shacklebolt..." He ticked off a few more names. Magically, the quills came out with a calendar listing everyone's assigned weeks from that very week up to the day Harry was to return to Hogwarts. "That should cover the summer, then-"

"Moody," Remus cut in anxiously, eyes flashing, "am I not going to be allowed to see the boy?"

It was like everything had been planned without his notice. Moody sent a significant look over to Tonks, who sighed and stepped up to Remus, smiling with false brightness as she grabbed one of his forearms. "Remus, aren't you taking all this a little too lightly? Sirius is _dead_, but you're still acting like nothing's wrong."

Bewildered, Remus started to say something like "I _am_ in mourning, but I've been in mourning so long it's no longer obvious," but Moody started on in their planned speech. "You're acting strange. All of us" the implied Order of the Phoenix "know how much he meant to you. The way you are now has us worried you going to have some sort of mental breakdown. It'd be best if you didn't see Potter for a while."

"The summer will give you both some time to yourself, some time to grieve properly," the witch picked up. "Gosh, neither of you have even done any sort of real grieving since it happened. Keeping it all bottled up inside isn't going to help."

"Potter's a strong lad. He's been through a lot and he'll get through this--we'll be there to make sure-"

"This is all well and good," Remus broke in with a certain viciousness, mouth dry and throat tight, "but haven't you ever supposed that it might be better for us to... _grieve..._ together?"

Moody and Tonks exchanged looks again, as if both had expected this statement and were well prepared to deal with it. "But Harry's only fifteen," Tonks began slowly, "sixteen in a month. He's at a really delicate stage in his life, Remus. It's obvious that he was really attached to Sirius, so close that he'll probably substitute you as his godfather if you let him."

"And he doesn't need that," Moody added gruffly. "He doesn't need someone to mother him. He's grown up in the past year but what happened at the Ministry could completely unravel all that if he's allowed to wallow. He needs someone to make sure he's getting food, not to spoon-feed him. He needs someone to make sure he gets up every morning, not to share the day with. Potter can't be allowed to regress. If the Ministry hasn't shown how crucial the war is becoming..."

"So you're saying that Harry's grown up enough that he no longer needs a friend, only a guardian?" Remus restated dryly, his stomach dropping with the implication. On reflex, he turned to stare off in the direction that Harry had disappeared to as if he could catch a last glimpse of the boy again. "You're wrong about that. He needs a confidante, especially so soon-"

"It isn't even all about Harry," Tonks interrupted. Stripes of subtle color flashed through her hair, indication of her worry. "You could get hurt in this, too. If you were allowed to go and see Harry everyday, what would happen? You'd go and become so attached to him that you'd never let him grow up. He wouldn't even be _Harry_ anymore, just a person to indulge so that you'd never remember your grief. You'd do anything for him, you'd spoil him rotten, just to get over Sirius. Harry doesn't need to be spoiled--he even hardly needs to be helped anymore! If he were allowed to do magic, we wouldn't even need to check up on him because he'd be able to take care of himself."

They went on for a long time, Remus watching their mouths move without really listening. Tonks was obviously worried, trying to make sure Remus understood exactly what she meant, but Moody was altogether rough about getting his message across, grouchy face frowning often and a fisted hand shaking. The other hand was curled white around the top of his staff.

"The bottom line is that I'm not to be allowed to visit Harry at all this summer according to you," Remus summarized flatly when they were done nearly an hour later, all eyes on him.

"Actually," Tonks hesitantly replied, "according to Dumbledore."

"That means we're charged with making sure you get some quiet _away_ from Potter," Moody clarified brusquely.

"This is crazy."

"It's for the best."

"And how would _you_ know what's for the best?" Remus snarled, anger flashing across his face in a sudden rage. Tonks took a hurried step back, and just as instantly Remus calmed, his expression falling. He half-turned. "I'm sorry... this is just... too unexpected." He swallowed, wiping at his forehead. "I think I'd better go then, now that I know how things stand. Don't worry, I won't try to sneak onto Dursley's property--I probably won't see anyone until summer's over."

"Remus, please, try to understand-"

"I understand perfectly," he said in sharp tones, voice betraying his anger and hurt. "After all, I've spent my entire life ostracized. Why should now be any different? Why should I have ever _thought_ it would be?"

"Lupin-"

"Goodbye." Without another word from either party, Remus apparated away.

**...**

The first few days at the Dursley's were normal enough: enough physical labor to keep his mind from wandering. If his uncle had known that making him keep up the house's appearance was a blessing, he'd probably have been torturously locked in a room or something instead. The only thing different was that the family now kept a large calendar hanging in the kitchen with every third day circled in horridly bright red ink.

When the car had pulled into the driveway, finding the calendar had been the first thing Petunia did. She searched until she found one large enough, and then sat hunching over it on the kitchen table, marking off the days she could be expecting "visitors" all the while muttering angrily under her breath. Harry, assigned the chore of cleaning a week's worth of dishes by hand, was given private audience for all her curses, but her anger only caused some small satisfaction on his part.

Harry glanced at that calendar now, two days after having unpacked everything. It seemed that all her stress and labor was for naught.

The doorbell rang again. Mad-Eye Moody was obviously at it, from his shouts that he could see them just standing there.

Vernon shuddered, face a ghastly pale. "I thought they said every third day!" he hissed to Petunia. She swallowed loudly, eyes darting back and forth between the door and the calendar she'd ripped off the wall to worry her hands at.

Harry smirked, head tipped to one side insolently. "Maybe today's the first day," he suggested sarcastically. "After all, even though they said every third day, they didn't say which day to start at."

"Trying to catch us off guard, are they?" Vernon bristled angrily, purposely ignoring Harry's tone. He couldn't very well do anything with an Order member just outside the door, ringing the bell again and threatening to break the wood down in a moment. "Ah, well, why don't we just indulge them this time? Once they come in, I'll be having a few words with him! I'll tell you that now!" He twirled at his moustache nervously.

The bell rang again, Moody shouting out his last warning.

"For heaven's sake, boy, _answer the door!_" Vernon bellowed, horrified.

"But I thought you said you'd die before letting one of them in," Harry countered innocently, stalling.

"Vernon, the Jones are watching us!" Petunia reported in a terrified voice. Without waiting for another moment, she ran to the door and threw it open, practically dragging Moody inside as she smiled tightly. "Ah, uh, sorry about that. Dudley had his music on so loud, no one heard you! Perfectly normal, those teenagers," she greeted him loudly, making sure all the curious neighbors heard her hurried explanation before she slammed the door shut.

Harry leaned against a wall, arms crossed as he waited to see exactly what these visits would entail. Moody looked him over and was satisfied enough to begin his inspection of the house. "Getting kind of skinny there, are you, Potter?" he commented absently as he walked around.

Vernon made a gagging sound deep in his throat. "It-it's the boy's fault," he practically quivered. "I-I mean _Harry_ didn't feel like eating much, and he was already so skinny from that, uh, school of his."

Petunia nodded frantically, following as Moody stalked towards the kitchen. "We're so worried," she added in fawning tones. "He hardly wants to do anything anymore."

Moody turned back to look at Harry, who shrugged. "I haven't felt much for food," the boy answered carelessly, eyes flashing in a silent dare for Moody to order him to eat. "I heard from Hermione before leaving school that in my _case_, it would be _understandable_."

The Order member grunted without comment, did an inspection on the kitchen, and then began walking back to the front of the house. "Did some remodeling, eh, Dursley?" he commented idly as he walked upstairs. "Walls look better--that color last year was almost enough to blind me."

"Well, thank y--WHAT DO YOU MEAN LAST YEAR?" the man roared, face turning purple. He whirled around on Harry. "WAS HE HERE LAST YEAR?"

"Yes," Harry replied calmly, stepping around his furious uncle to walk up the stairs. "As a matter of fact, he was. There were about eleven of them--remember the night I disappeared? Didn't you wonder who picked me up?" He paused, and purposely spun to stare at Moody with mock horror. "I just remembered! That glass that you used to soak your eye in, did we ever clean it?"

Shrugging, Moody just kept walking. "Might have put it back in the cupboards-"

"WHAT EYE?!?"

"One of Moody's eyes is fake," Harry explained with fake worry. "When he came to pick me up with all those other people, it was sticky so I got him a glass of water. He plucked the eye out and let it soak for a few minutes, just to clean it up. I don't know if what would happen if the glass wasn't properly disinfected before being used again--you'd probably break out into horrible rashes!"

It just so happened that Harry had overheard Dudley complaining that morning about a strange rash on his inner arm. This rash, Harry knew, had actually come from Dudley rubbing some poison ivy all over himself on a dare the day before, but no one else knew. Dudley, when he heard about the 'glass-rash,' would probably be stupid enough to really believe himself infected with some magical disease.

He paused, thinking. "There's so many glasses in the house, it might still even be sitting in the cupboard. You'd better rewash them all, Aunt Petunia."

Vernon looked ready to explode, a moment Harry used to drop, "Oh, by the way, this wizard's name is Alastor Moody, in case you were wondering." In a stage whisper, he added, "But everyone calls him 'Mad-Eye' Moody. For the, uh, eye, and also because he's just stark raving mad. If everyone weren't so scared of him, they'd probably have locked him up by now." Satisfied, Harry turned around and hurried to catch up with Moody, who was exiting from his inspection of Dudley's room and who'd heard nothing whatsoever.

"Not your room, is it, Potter?" Harry shook his head. "Which one is, then? I haven't got all day." Moody turned to face the Dursleys. "I'm just checking the wards along the windows, case you're wondering," he informed them abruptly. Before either could say anything, they grimaced at the sight of Moody's magical eye spinning in his head to watch Harry, and then spin in all directions to take inventory of the house. "Where's your son? I thought he'd be here."

"D-Dudley, he's at... at the park," Vernon answered faintly, face ghost-white. Petunia whimpered, still staring at that rotating eye.

Moody snorted. "I've seen enough pictures of him to know he doesn't go there for play. What's he doing there? Beating up everyone smaller than him?"

"Just the ones who're scared of him," Harry shouted the answer. "Everyone's smaller than Dudley, but most are smart enough to see how stupid he is."

"BOY!!!"

"My room's here, Mad-Eye," Harry informed him pleasantly, stressing the nickname. "Do you need to come over, or can you just check through the walls with that eye of yours?"

"It's pretty handy," Moody admitted, the eye swirling from where it was probably looking through the master bedroom. It moved, pupils expanding or contracting randomly. "Everything looks to be in order here."

Both wizards trooped down the stairs, muggles coming down a moment later with shaky legs and hands. Moody looked around again, taking a moment to double-check his work which moment made the Dursleys that much worse.

"I was wondering," Harry started, "why you even have to come over, Moody?" The Dursleys looked up hopefully, seeing some sort of salvation in their nephew. Harry continued carelessly. "I mean, you could just check through the walls and all with that eye of yours. We wouldn't have to know when--I'm sure this whole break in schedule is very stressful to my family. If you just walked by a few times a week, checking in on everything without telling anyone, I know they'd all feel much better."

"I-I'm sure that's not necessary, Harry, love," Petunia protested weakly, seeing the idea. If Harry got his way, his aunt and uncle would never know when Moody was checking on them--they'd have to be on their best behavior all day, every day, until summer was over. "We...um... we enjoy this op-oppor-opportunity to see a real wizard." She swallowed loudly, face sallow and hair limp. "_Besides_, I'm afraid that'd I'd get a _little_ paranoid if I knew that at any moment, someone could be walking by looking through our house." She smiled a little too sweetly, a little too fake.

"It's an idea," was all that Moody said before turning around and letting himself out the door.

Harry, smartly, had turned and made his way up the stairs as soon as the Order member began to leave, and had shut the door to his room before anyone realized he'd gone.

**...**

The last day of his first week back (two visits by Moody later), Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked at his work. All the weeds were gone from the entirety of the Dursley property, all the flowers and bushes and shrubs were perfectly taken care of and watered. The trees were managed, the grass mowed. Moody had been suspicious when he'd caught Harry hard at work and the Dursleys had nearly died of fright, but Harry had simply told the wizard that the work did him good and there was no more mention of the subject.

When he stepped inside the kitchen doorway for a quick drink, Harry was suddenly rewarded for his good behavior so far in the summer.

All of the Dursleys were sitting at the table in the kitchen, dressed in vacation shirts and there were dozens of bags packed along the hallway. Dudley looked like he could sing with joy at Harry's dumbfounded expression. Harry had to stare a moment at the horrid rash covering his cousin completely before realizing that something strange was happening.

"What's going on?" Harry blurted out, alerting the adults to his presence. They glanced up unhappily from what, Harry could see, was a vacation travel package. He pulled off his working gloves and shrugged his shoes off, stepping into the house. "Why are all those bags packed?"

"Ah, _Harry_," Petunia smiled nastily. "How good of you to drop in. And lucky, too. We were just about to leave--it would have been a shame to go without a proper 'goodbye' from you, but you've made it."

"Goodbye?" Harry repeated dumbly. "Goodbye where?"

"We're going on a vacation," Dudley informed him snottily, still very much put off from being infected with some magical weirdo's eye liquid. The spots all over his face looked very itchy, and Dudley had scratched hard enough to cause various, bleeding holes in his skin. Petunia had been on the verge of ordering Harry to clean every dish in the house, but that was changed when Dudley realized (from the glint in his cousin's eye) that cleaning every dish would only give that nasty Potter boy a chance to infect the whole household. Seeing Petunia slave away for hours in the kitchen and having his dishwashing privileges revoked almost made his summer happy.

Harry snorted. "I can see that, you dolt," he shot back angrily. "What I want to know is why I didn't know until now, probably minutes before you leave!"

Vernon answered this, face molded into some haughty, annoyed expression: his eyes were half-closed, his chin lowered enough to practically disappear in layers of fat, and his lips smirked. "I'm sure you'd love to know, boy. In fact, I feel you ought to know, just so you can think about what you're not going to experience." He paused for dramatic flair, the rest of the family grinning evilly. "We're going to Jamaica."

Harry blinked a few times. "Jamaica?"

"Yes, Jamaica."

Dudley let out an excited squeal, jumping up from his chair. "Let's go now! I want to go now!" He eagerly stomped through the halls, touching the luggage as he went. "Come on!"

"I'm sure you already told Moody about this," Harry started, feeling like he was going to drown with shock.

But Vernon shook his head. "We're leaving that to you, boy. In fact, we're leaving you. Don't mess anything up, be sure to lock the door when you leave for that abominable school of yours, and," his eyes glinted, "make sure the lawn's kept."

Harry waited a moment longer, and then slowly backed out of the house. Shutting the door, he sank against it, feeling a certain betrayal towards his family he never really expected. It wasn't that they were leaving him. It was that they weren't even going to bother to tell him about it-

"Oh, brother," he muttered, suddenly remembering what Dumbledore had said about protection while living with a blood relative. As quick as he could, Harry slid his shoes back on and began running down the street to old Figg's house where he guessed the Order members were holing up during the summer.

**...**

The house still stank of cats even from a good distance and as he was running Harry realized that a good many of those cats were running with him to Figg's house. They followed him like shadows, getting to the destination fast enough to be sitting on the porch leisurely as he panted up.

He didn't even get inside before the door was burst open, Moody running out with his wand ready and robes flaring. "Where are they, Harry?" he yelled, head turning in all directions and eye going that much faster. "Where are they all? I'll teach them to-"

"It's-It's not Death Eaters," Harry gasped between breaths. He paused, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. "It's my uncle."

The door opened again, a few others spilling out. Tonks was there, surprisingly, and her hair was bleach white. "Not Death Eaters?" she repeated shrilly, then chuckled a few times stiffly. "Goodness, what a fright that was!"

"Then why are you tearing down the street like a hooligan?" another of the wizards who'd stepped out demanded hoarsely, one hand going to his heart. "Bout near had a heart attack!"

"Getting too old?"

"_Hardly._"

"Potter," Moody barked out, "what in the blazes in going on?" A few cats scrambled out of his way, staring back at him resentfully. One, however, purred loudly and rubbed against his shin, leaving long strands of fur smeared all across the bottom of his robes.

"Um..." Harry looked around at all the people in confusion. "What's all this? I thought only Moody was here."

"We're taking turns," one of the unknown witches supplied helpfully. "This week's Moody's, of course, because he's the big boss man."

A question that had been bothering Harry suddenly came to mind, and without thinking he asked, "Where's Remus? I, well, I rather thought I'd be seeing him this summer at least. He was at the station..." He trailed off curiously at the various reactions, some good some bad. "What's wrong?"

"Remus needed some time to himself," Tonks answered cheerfully, the white in her hair slowly streaking with other random colors. "The, uh, the things at the Ministry really affected him, too, Harry."

Harry swallowed, mouth dropping open a little. "Oh..."

"To be honest," the other witch continued, also smiling brightly, "we don't really know where he went. No one's been able to contact him for the last few days. But don't worry, we'd know if anything were to happen to him."

Again, the only thing he could say was, "Oh..."

"Enough of this, Potter," Moody snapped. "I want to know why you're running around like your britches are on fire." A few of the other members sniggered. Tonks's smile was still brightly plastered to her face.

"Right... well..." Harry swallowed again, and then forced the thought out of his mind like everything else, repressing any emotion he had. He managed a small smile--it was obviously what everyone else wanted to see. Just the expression made them all relax. He filed that piece of information away. "It's just that, my uncle just told me the family planned on going for a vacation in Jamaica, without me of course. I wouldn't think much about it, but Dumbledore said something about my aunt's blood being a major part of my protection." He paused, letting them absorb the information which they seemed to do calmly.

"Anything more you want to tell us?" Moody asked, eye stopping in its surveillance of the neighborhood to fix on Harry's face.

He shrugged. "I wouldn't have really bothered you with this if I didn't have a question. I was just wondering if all those protections would still be working when they all left."

"Blimey," one wizard murmured, getting elbowed sharply for his pain.

"We'd, ah, have to talk with Dumbledore to know for sure," one of the other wizards answered hesitantly. "Until then," and he looked around at all the others, "why don't we just go and stop them? They can't really leave until we know the answer. Right?" Their heads all nodded.

Moody didn't look away or nod. "When are they planning to leave, Harry?"

"Ah, right now, I'm thinking."

"Now?" Tonks gaped. "And you didn't think to tell us about this sooner?"

"I didn't really know," Harry shot back defensively. "I wouldn't have known if I didn't sneak up on them, all packed up and ready to go."

"Right," the one wizard repeated stubbornly. "Let's go, then."

**...**

The house, as Harry secretly feared while the group of wizards and witches practically flew through the neighborhoods, was empty. The car was gone even though only about half the luggage in the hall had been taken out. "Really," Harry muttered to himself. "They must have seen I was gone and just took off." He frowned, and then looked around to realize that everyone was watching him with blank expressions. "Um, well, what now?"

"Now would be a good time to contact Dumbledore," Tonks suggested nervously, looking around the abandoned house. She giggled a little nervously. "Why don't you do it, Kingsley?"

The wizard who'd suggested stopping the Dursleys (who Harry now recognized as Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks's partner, which meant that maybe a few of the others had also shown up last year, but he couldn't remember any names for the life of him) shook his head firmly. "No way-"

"I'm not going to-"

"-but," Shacklebolt finished, "I suggest the wizard who was on duty at the time have that honor."

Moody grunted something that sounded like "pansies" and made over to the fireplace in the front room of the house with everyone following expectantly. He started a fire and spelled it, yelling "Albus Dumbledore" once it really got going.

"This might take awhile," the wizard informed everyone tightly. "Dumbledore's got a busy schedule, he might not hear us for an hour or so." The group shuffled uncomfortably, Harry with the knowledge that every minute meant the Dursleys got that much farther, which also might mean that every minute the house's protections got weaker.

"Well, why don't we all just sit down and relax?" Tonks suggested happily. "It's only midmorning yet, and I for one haven't had anything to eat. I'm famished!"

Harry glanced around the room uncertainly. "I could make something-"

"That'd be wonderful!" the witch smiled in what looked to be a dreamy manner. "Could you really, Harry? Pancakes sound so good right now."

"We're here to protect Potter, not make him wait on us," Shacklebolt chided.

"It's fine," Harry volunteered. He made a half-shrug. "Better than sitting around and just thinking." He left, feeling the eyes of every adult in the room on him.

The breakfast was fairly simple. As he started cooking, Harry suddenly realized that Tonks was probably just blurting out what everyone else had been feeling. They were all likely hungry. That in mind, he mixed out plenty of batter and pulled from the stuffed freezer a few packages of bacon. Everything started going at once with Harry expertly handling anything that came up. Pancakes cooked to the right level and bacon only sizzled so long, all taken care of with the ease of long practice.

Shacklebolt wandered into the kitchen sometime when the pancakes were almost done and the bacon was waiting to be eaten. Harry only caught sight of the man from the corner of his eyes and was startled enough to nearly burn his hand.

"Careful!" the Auror advised. Then he looked around with an impressed look. "These look like they've been cooked by a house-elf, Potter. I didn't know you could cook." He looked around at all the ingredients. "Home-made, too? Shocker."

Harry snorted. "Who else cooks in this house during the summertime?" he retorted. At the man's look, Harry added, "I guess it comes from a lot of practice."

"Ok." Shacklebolt wandered around for a moment longer before clearing his throat uncomfortably. "By the way, I thought you'd like to know that we got hold of Dumbledore."

"Really?" Harry turned around with a faint smile. "I'll be right out, then. Almost done in here, anyway." He hurriedly flipped the last of the pancakes. "Only a few more to go."

"Oh, you don't need to worry. He, uh, he didn't have much time. Busy schedule, like Mad-Eye said. Just came in, answered a few questions, and then took off again."

"Really?" Harry repeated, movements slowing down. He sighed. "I expected as much, to tell you the truth." He left the ambiguous statement at that, determinedly focusing all his attention back to the last pancakes.

"Aren't you curious about what he said?"

"Um, sure, yeah! Definitely curious here." The pancakes flipped. Harry frowned at it.

"Since your family's only on vacation, they still technically live here and so there's no problem with the wards. No worries about Death Eater invasions and all that. I'm sure that makes you feel a bit more secure."

This time, Harry sighed. "Of course everything's fine. It's grand. You can go tell everyone out there not to worry about me, just tell them I'm 'secure.' That's why you're in here, right? Got picked as the one to go feel out that crazy Potter boy." He sighed again. "I was really looking forward to going to the Burrow, you know? For a minute, I really thought it was a possibility. It would've been great."

Shacklebolt looked around uncomfortably.

"Do me a favor and forget you heard me say that, ok? We can make up some happy conversation to tell everyone else and they'll be no more problems, I swear." Harry looked down. "Breakfast's ready, so you can even pretend that I have no idea you're in here spying on me. You can say I think you just came in to talk, and then you left to go get everyone else."

"Ah... well..." The Auror stumbled through a few more syllables and then gave up, turning around to walk out of the kitchen.

Harry bit his lip hard enough to draw blood inside his mouth, and then started pulling out plates for everyone to use. All his cooking ingredients went back into the shelves, the kitchen tidied up quickly. When they started piling in, he smiled brightly at them all. "Heard the news. No worries after all, eh?"

"Wow, Harry, this looks great!" Tonks grabbed a plate, nearly dropping it on someone's foot as she wobbled through the kitchen to pick up food. "That instant stuff, right? The easy kind to make?"

Harry grinned back. "But it still tastes pretty good, right?" He watched them eat a bit. "I'd join you, but I took all the best samples while I was cooking. Isn't that right?" he turned to Shacklebolt.

The Auror swallowed whatever he was eating and then nodded slowly, forcing a smile. "Thought you were going to eat everything, really."

"You can just leave the dishes in the sink. I'll deal with them when I'm in the mood, but right now I'm going to just scatter off to the park--most of the neighborhood's there, at least the ones my age, and I think a load of teenagers are better than hanging out with you oldies."

"Hey!" someone objected, chuckling. "We're not that old!"

"Right." Harry made a show of rolling his eyes, drawing a few more sniggers from the Order members. Only Shacklebolt seemed unamused, watching Harry seriously. "By the way, I'm stuck here at this house for the rest of the summer, aren't I?"

"'fraid so," Tonks joked. "But the good news is that, with your family out of the house, a couple of us can stay here all day instead of being a few blocks down."

"Great," Harry sighed with what everyone but Shacklebolt saw as mock disappointment. "Stuck with a bunch of old folks. I'm guessing that skipping down to the Burrow's not an option, is it?" He laughed before he got any reply. "Don't even answer that, I already know. Dumbledore's said it's too dangerous, isn't it? Well, I guess the most dangerous thing I can do now is jump off a swing, so if you don't mind, you're holding back my sense of adventure."

He walked out the back kitchen door, pausing at the side of the house just beyond the windows to take a few stiff, calming breaths and to keep that fake smile painted on his face. His head felt like it was going to explode, and all of his muscles were bound and tense. He couldn't take it anymore! And a few of them would even be living with them--he'd have to keep up this act all day, unless he could dodge them.

Words drifted to his ears and he quieted to hear the happy conversation taking place in the kitchen:

"Really, what were we all worrying about? That boy's happy as sin, now that it's summer."

"Strange, really. I thought he was supposed to be real close to Sirius, and now..."

"It's only being a teenager. Real resilient. He moped around for a week, remember? A week's a long time for a teenager, and he probably got over it. Don't bring it up, of course."

"Of course we wouldn't!"

"What did he say, really, in the kitchen, Kingsley?"

Harry held his breath. Shacklebolt had seen him behaving in two very different ways. The Auror could either confirm Harry's seeming happiness, or reveal that he was really just playing a game, being truly deeply bitter and still very angry. But Shacklebolt only made some noncommittal noise and said, "Same things that he said to the rest of you, actually. Jokes, mostly, about how much he could cook. He did mention the Weasleys, though."

"He's best friends with one of their sons. It's natural that he'd want to go and hang out."

"Can that be arranged?" Shacklebolt asked, a small underscore of desperation in his voice.

"Definitely not this summer!" someone answered, taken back by the question. "Why would you even ask?"

"It's just that Potter seems a little lonely here, or at least I'd be in his position. It's also obvious that summer's never a good time for him--remember how casually he accepted the Dursley's abandonment."

"There's no lost between them, that's for sure."

"Summer's supposed to be a fun time. Out of school. No worries-"

"I seem to remember tons of summer assignments."

"-No _real_ worries, then. Sleeping in, overeating, forgetting to eat because you're having too much fun. All we've heard about so far is him working. He needs a break from this break! I just thought that we might be able to get him to enjoy himself for a while at least. The kid's going to be primed to have a nervous breakdown in a few years."

"Well, it's a great idea, but we just can't, Kingsley, and you know it. We can't even bring any of his friends here. The protections only cover Harry! Imagine what would happen if Hermione Granger came to visit--the Death Eaters would track her in a second once she left her own blood protection, and they'd track her straight to here. The same goes for practically every other Hogwarts students, for crying out loud! I'm sorry, but he's just going to have to wait until school starts again."

"It's sad, but it's true. Let's not even bring this up, Kingsley. We don't want to get his hopes up--he was joking before, but if we start talking, he'll take us seriously. I don't want to disappoint that kid, do you?"

**...**

Harry didn't stay to hear the answer, unfortunately. He'd already taken off for the park, but while heading there, had decided to take a short detour. The decision was made almost bitterly. He was deliberately breaking one of the rules for him this summer ("Rule Number Three: Make sure someone knows where you are or where you're going at all times") and he hoped they all got ulcers trying to find him.

He even secretly wished that something would happen, some emergency for him to just react in to get all this energy out. He felt like he was going to explode with anger, and once that explosion took place there would be nothing to keep him from spiraling into oblivious depression.

...Sirius...

Harry walked through an alley, vaguely noting it was the one where Dementors had attacked him and Dudley last year. That meant it was close to Figg's house. Harry looked around suddenly and caught sight of a cat not too far away, cleaning itself without seeing him yet. He ducked and crept away, making sure not to draw its attention.

...Remus...

He'd never really been allowed to just wander around before. When he was young, the Dursleys hardly let him leave the house, especially after a bad episode where he got lost and had to be brought back home by some policemen. Petunia had nearly wept at seeing him because everyone else in the neighborhood was outside their doors, watching and sure never to forget the incident.

So he didn't really have any idea where in the world he was going. Technically, he was going in the direction opposite the park, making sure to avoid cats and Order hideouts, but that was the only directions he knew of.

The streets all mazed around with a certain order that he understood immediately, and he followed what he figured to be a main street to its end. It let out into another, busier street, and across the way was a shopping center. Almost gladly, Harry made his way through the sprawl of stores and got lost in the paved sidewalks and crowds.

**...**

"Sir, he isn't at the house even though many others-"

"Of course he isn't there, you idiots! Both of you! Weren't you watching? He just walked along that way. No, put your wands away. We're just following right now. We can't do anything in broad daylight! Watch what he's doing..."

"He's going... shopping?"

"Why would he go-"

"Shut up! Hmm. Shopping... It would seem so. Stay here and follow him. I'm going back to watch those others at his house. They'll be noticing him gone soon enough, and it'll be the perfect chance to sneak in. Make sure they don't see you or any of the others! Don't follow me, either of you, but stay here and keep an eye on him."

"There he goes. He's a nut, that one."

"True. Look at him. Don't know why he even wants to follow this boy around. Wacko. Trying to sneak around. Ha!"

"Why does the Dark Lord want him alive again-"

"You don't ask questions, idiot! You just follow orders. We're going to have to make up some excuse not to be hanging around here tonight--_He's _summoned everyone to a meeting."

"Maybe by then, we'll know what this wacko's up to."

"Better hope so. Lord Voldemort wants to know what this traitor's up to, and if we can't find out we'll be killed just like him."

"Yea, _that's_ just the kind of news that motivates me to do my best."


	2. Scourged by the Sequent Effects

Chapter Two: Scourged by the Sequent Effects

GLOUCESTER: These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us. Though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects. Love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide; in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son and father.

-King Lear, Shakespeare

So (her owled message read) _I've managed to come up with a horde of valid excuses for us to get Harry out of his _family's _hands. The only problem is that I'm almost certain none of them will work. _I'm_ not allowed to leave my house, and if I'm restricted I can't imagine how bad Harry's summer is going. The only real hope I have is that Dumbledore will let him go shopping with us in Diagon Alley. If he does, then we might be able to drag Harry out a week early -- maybe even two weeks!_

Something else has been bothering me a lot, Ron. Right at the end of the year, Harry and Professor Dumbledore had another of their talks like they have every year, every time something horrible happens. Usually Harry runs around and tells us immediately. Now, I'm just realizing that I don't have a clue whatever it was that Dumbledore told him! I'm worried. It has to be something about those prophecies, about how You-Know-Who tricked us, about... about You-Know-What_._

True, we were in the hospital wing until practically the last day of school. But there are owls Never mind, I've just answered my own question. Of course Harry hasn't told us yet! He hasn't had the chance, really. In the hospital wing, there were always plenty of other D.A. members around and he probably didn't want to involve all them (he's an idiot sometimes, but predictable after a while). And he can't tell us now because owls can be intercepted. Hedwig's not even with him, is she? Poor Harry.

I guess we're just going to have to wait until we see each other again. I know this is probably eating you up as much as it's bothering me -- or else you never really gave it a thought, and now you don't see a point_ in worrying, so you'll just forget about it until _I_ bring it up with Harry. I know you just as well as I know him, Ronald Weasley!_

The summer assignments are so easy, I don't even need to open a book! I'm thinking all the professors believe we really needed a break this time so they laid off. I don't know what they're_ thinking! We need everything we can learn..._

The letter sat on his desk for approximately three days before another joined it, again from Hermione. Two days later, she wrote again. Another owl came from her almost like clockwork, rarely taking more than two or three days. Harry, of course, wrote once early on stating "Rule Number Fourteen: You are prohibited from sending owls out as they can be intercepted or tracked."

Summer, Ron decided unhappily, was beginning to suck. Not even the twins could lighten the mood as they weren't living at the Burrow anymore. They'd rented a flat in muggle London of all places, saying they wanted to be close to their new store, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley. He didn't want to guess at how it looked.

Moping, Ron forced himself to get up from his desk and drooped downstairs, mood as drippy as cold rain.

His mum looked up from reading the _Daily Prophet_ to shoot him a disapproving look. "It's about time you've come down from your room," she stated in her authoritative tone, the one she got when she started long lectures. "You've been up there all day hiding away and it's already sundown." She sniffed, eyes going back to the paper. "I hope you don't expect me to get up and make you dinner, now that you've missed it by an hour."

Ron ignored her like any moody teenager, slinking over to the cupboard where he'd undoubtedly find himself a plate of food set aside earlier when he didn't come down. It was still warm. He shuffled over to the table, eating to satisfy his rumbling belly.

His mum sniffed again, but this time it was for something she read. She didn't share, of course, and Ron didn't want to know. He'd just received an owl from Hermione about some of the ridiculous claims being printed up, from "I Am Lord Voldemort's...Mother" to "Analysis of the Boy Who Lived" where experts put their opinions together on how badly the last year had treated Harry.

Hearing about that made Ron want to just storm over there and give his own personal narrative of all the indignities Harry went through, all the stares and whispers and other such nonsense he had to put up with. Ron, at that point, would then point out that most of it came from the _Prophet's_ own yellow journalism.

There were more footsteps coming down the stairs and the only other occupant in the house entered the kitchen. Ginny took a look around, sighed, and sat down at the table. "So, what's going on?" she asked brightly. She looked at Ron. "I see you're not dead like we thought you were, but I hope you can explain the smell coming from your room."

"That's the smell of cleanliness," Ron retorted easily between swallows. "Obviously you've never encountered it before."

Ginny snorted. A minute or so went by before _it_ happened, just like Ron knew it would: she picked at the edge of his plate, stealing a piece of celery. "Hey!" he started, glaring. "Leave off. This is my food!"

"Technically, mum left it on the cupboard for _anyone_ to eat," Ginny countered, stealing another piece. "Any bum could have walked in and taken it with full permission. Since I'm now hungry, a part of that food belongs to me."

"Children, settle down," their mother calmly inserted without missing a beat. She turned a page before continuing. "Ginny, you already ate dinner and said you were stuffed to the bone. And Ron, how did you know that wasn't for your father?"

Ron froze in the act of spooning another mouthful to his mouth, suddenly feeling very guilty. His dad had been coming home completely worn out every night. If this was supposed to be his...

"Well, of course it's not dad's," stated Ginny with some superiority. "It's Friday and you already told us that you were both going out tonight." She rolled her eyes at Ron. "You told us practically every night before we went to bed, mum, like a fairy tale or something before getting tucked in."

"Right," Ron agreed, eating with much relief. "I remember now."

"I heard that eating vegetables helps memory increase," Ginny said, eye twinkling as she watched him, "from Hermione."

"Maybe you'd better eat some more, then," he retorted darkly. "Or else you'll never remember where you hid all those pictures of Harry in the attic."

Ginny went red in the face but again their mother started in without so much as looking up from the paper. "Both of you, knock it off. If I can handle seven of you at one time, think about what I can do with only two. And Ginny, it's certain herbs that help memory, not vegetables."

She put the paper down and started to stand. "Oh, Ron, make sure you eat all those potatoes, will you? I'm sure you'll like the spicing a lot."

Ginny broke out into a great grin and Ron caught the one on his mother's face. "Hey, no fair," he complained. "There's two of you and only one of me."

"There used to be six of you and only one of me," stated Ginny. "I think this is very fair."

"He's coming home," their mum said suddenly, eyes on the family clock. "Ginny, you'll want to move a little out of the way of the fireplace. That's good, love."

As soon as their dad appeared, Ron knew something was wrong. His face was all worry lines and frowns. Their mum picked up on it immediately and began to fuss over him, dusting off the ashes and taking his coat. Ginny stared at him worryingly. "What happened, dad?" she asked softly.

"What else ever happens during the summer?" the oldest Weasley started slowly. He looked over at their mum. "It's those blasted muggles at it again. They've up and left altogether. Dumbledore isn't sure the wards will last 'til the end of summer, but until they collapse entirely, Harry can't be moved."

"Harry..." Ron breathed. Ginny swallowed audibly.

"There are at least a dozen Order members with him, in case something happens, and a Portkey ready to use in emergencies, but it'll hardly be enough if the Dark Lord manages to sneak through those shambled wards. No matter what, this is the absolute last year he spends there. Even Dumbledore's admitted it. Once time runs out, the wards are gone forever and they'll be no point in putting all the effort into remaking them for only a short summer."

"I hate them," Ginny hissed quietly. Ron glanced over at her in great surprise. "Every year it's something different, something worse. I hate those muggles. They treat him horribly."

Somehow, their dad managed to catch ear of what she said. Wearily, Arthur Weasley looked at his children. "We can't hate them, Ginny," he said softly. "No matter what. Look at what hate's gotten us so far: a war and deaths, done and to come. They're despicable, yes, inexcusable, yes, but it's only because of the way they are. They're taught to hate magic, and look what it's done to Harry."

He looked up sadly to his wife, who only smiled.

"Well, we can always go out another time, can't we?" she suggested with a false light-heartedness, busying herself around the kitchen. "And there are always new recipes to try. Unless you want something in particular tonight, love?"

Arthur shook his head, haggard as he'd ever looked. "There's more," he went on in a sober tone. "The Dark Lord's released his first public message. A Death Eater apparated into the middle of Diagon Alley today, fully robed and all, proclaiming the Dark Lord's return to power. Before he managed to get away, he also claimed a great reward in store for new followers. The Ministry's clumsy attempt to capture him probably only cemented the image in people's minds."

He looked at her sadly. "It's begun again, Molly, just like last time."

In front of her children, Molly tried to help break this latest depression in her house. "Well, at least he can't be original." When no one so much as relaxed, she kissed her husband's cheek and gave her two youngest children quick hugs. "Don't worry. We're ready for him."

"And we have Harry, right?" Ginny tried, voice trembling. She was probably remembering the Ministry, just like Ron was, remembering how Harry had led them and had fought with them.

Their father looked oddly weakened by this latest question, but he managed to nod slowly. "Yes, we do have Harry."

**...**

"Have you checked all of the park?" Kingsley demanded, worry undermining his authority. Tonks rolled her eyes.

"No," she responded sarcastically, "I actually forgot to check any of it. None of the swing-sets, none of the monkey bars, and definitely none of the slides. My hair, it's not full of static because I put it next to every plastic slide here! It's full of static because it's trying to be worse than you are!"

"Don't panic," the Auror muttered to himself, tuning the witch out as he scanned the area one more time. It was getting close to dark and still no Potter. Earlier, when they'd walked by and hadn't seen him, they'd assumed he was one of the millions of kids hanging in the area. Now, they weren't even sure he was there to begin with.

"Relax. Harry said he'd be here. He probably already got bored with the place and started back. Even he wouldn't stay out past dark with all these dang mosquitoes out."

Kingsley sighed, looking around one more time. There were only a few older teenagers hanging by a tree, one or two of them smoking a cigarette (for the first time from all the coughing. They'd probably stole one from a parent and were trying it out, pretending to be cool and looking like they were just ready to kill over). Harry was no where in sight.

He rubbed at his face once more, trying to get some warmth back into the chilled skin. "All right, let's head back then."

Smiling, the witch slapped him on the shoulder rather solidly. "You'll see, you worrywart. Then I'll get to tell everyone you were having another panic attack, and we'll all have a good laugh. Except for you, of course."

"We'll get back and he won't be there," Kingsley corrected darkly, his voice deeper than normal. "Then Mad-Eye will call us all out with torches and all, alert Dumbledore, and discharge me. This is exactly how I planned on spending my summer, chasing down teenage-"

"HARRY?" Tonks suddenly shouted, arms going off to her sides and waving around frantically. "HARRY POTTER, IS THAT YOU OVER THERE?"

Up ahead and going the same direction as the two Aurors, Harry Potter was indeed heading home. He stopped on a corner of a street, pausing beneath a lamplight. For a moment, Kingsley caught a bitter expression on the boy's face that could've been a shadow for its consistency; seeing Tonks, Potter broke into a sincere-looking grin. The smile only made Kingsley feel worse, if anything. "Hey!" the teenager called out. "What are you two doing out here?"

"Looking for your ugly butt," Tonks joked, walking a little faster to stand beneath the light as well. "We went and looked all through the park for you, you know. My hair's standing on end from fright!"

"From static," Kingsley corrected absently, studying the enigma of a boy before him. He'd never known anyone like Harry Potter, not anyone with that kind of personality and control at so young an age. "She decided to go down a few slides while diligently calling your name."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You can still fit down those things?" he asked incredulously. "And you go willingly? I don't think I've ever met anyone like you, Tonks. Craziness."

He turned away quickly, blocking his face momentarily, then looked back. "It's getting kind of cool, don't you think? I'm ready to get back to the house." Harry looked between the two of them with a smile that seemed strained, at least to one of the Aurors. "I suppose you're my sitters for tonight, then?"

Tonks ruffled up his hair affectionately and then tried to undo the action by flattening the strands with her hands. "Nope. You get one last night of independence. Moody said he doesn't think the protections on the house are down enough to let anyone stay the night."

"Down enough?" The teenager went completely still. "I thought there was no danger to the wards."

"There isn't," Kingsley hurried answered. "Tonks just used to wrong phrase. What she means is that the house is still suspicious of us, despite all our Order identification. It's automatically contacted Dumbledore, who's... settled, for lack of a better word, the house's anxiety. However, it needs a few more hours before any of us can safely go to sleep in it, expecting to wake up the next morning."

"What does all that mean?" Harry asked almost desperately. "The house needs to get used to you? Does that mean it can get used to anyone?"

"Not anyone," Kingsley replied calmly. "Just those Dumbledore approves of."

Harry shook his head slightly. "I'm still very shaky on how all those wards work," he admitted wryly as they started walking again, "even after everything Dumbledore told me."

"He probably didn't tell you much," Tonks pointed out. "Old badger likes to keep a lot of secrets to himself."

"He sure does," Harry agreed with another of his faintly stiff grins. "I'm sure he knows about everything that goes on in Hogwarts, but he lets students get away with a lot more than the other professors would -- I bet he even lets some professors get away with more than the students do."

"Professors?" Kingsley wondered. He remembered hearing some rumors about last year's Defense professor, some witch of the Ministry.

Harry shrugged. "I don't really know, but it's logical, isn't it? Like, if they had a stressful day, he wouldn't mind them getting a little drunk, would he?" When he and Tonks laughed, Kingsley stayed quiet. The light of the lamps they passed under caught onto all weird angles of Harry's body, and it was strange to see the boy portrayed so darkly. Harry had started absently rubbing something on the back of his right hand, and when he let it swing, those same lights caught onto the skin and made it seem as though there were actual writing embedded into the skin.

Maybe lines of the prophecy he was born into, Kingsley mused to himself jokingly, picturing for a moment words instead of blood running through the boy's body.

"So, he was on the verge of breaking down -- truly, honestly believed that you had run off somewhere or _worse_, that you'd been kidnapped by smelly old ladies -- when I finally convince him that you'd never do that! It took forever. I'm surprised we caught up with you so fast."

"I was walking really slow. After being so hot all day, the night feels really good."

"Don't I know. This heat wilts my hair! Anyway, I'm going to have a blast tonight telling everyone. They all know how terrible he is at stress. Maybe they'll force him to go on a break like they forced Remus. Crazy man, him, worse than anything Kingsley could ever do."

Kingsley snapped back into the conversation, ready to say something to stop her. After all, it was Moody's orders that Remus Lupin not be mentioned, only to say that he was taking a break. But he couldn't. For once, he could see clearly through the laughing mask Harry Potter was presenting, and beneath it the boy was simply frightened silly that someone as important as the werewolf had abandoned him.

Harry laughed at the joke. "Don't _I_ know! Every time I see him, there's more gray in his hair!" His green eyes were void of anything close to mirth but Tonks wasn't paying any attention to that. "I always thought he needed someone to tell him off, make him lay down at least. Someone did at last?"

Tonks nodded. "And what a fight that was! He really cares for you, Harry, but he was about to break down."

"Oh, I know. Don't worry about it," the boy answered easily, smirking. "It's better, right? He always did look like he was ready to collapse, anyway. How did you manage it? I tried to make him rest five minutes, but couldn't even do that. You must be some sort of master manipulator!"

"It was actually pretty easy. See, Remus doesn't like to show his feelings or whatnot, so he was simply determined to go on pretending like Sirius's death had no affect on him whatsoever." Kingsley winced and Harry's hand balled into sharp fists for a moment before forcibly relaxing. Tonks went on, oblivious. "We all knew that he _needed_ some time to grieve, but if he had his way, he'd have spent everyday with you. Well, me and Moody cornered him after seeing you at the train station and told him that he needed some time off, and that if he went off with you every day, he'd only spoil you rotten and no one wanted that. Plus, you've really grown up enough not to need some sort of nurse maid."

"I can see how that might have done it," Harry conceded, and Kingsley picked up a faint trembling in his voice, "but I put more effort when I tried to get him to relax than that. Or was he really that bad off?"

"We talked to him for pretty much an hour, just drilling at him, you know? You probably didn't go for long enough -- you have to wear him down! And then we threw our biggest piece at him!"

"Biggest piece?" His voice even managed to sound suitably excited.

Tonks grinned. "We told him Dumbledore had forbidden him to come here at all this summer. Everyone listens to Dumbledore, you know. He hardly stayed a minute after before just leaving, and we haven't seen him since. It's really kind of sad, you know."

"How so? You think he's pouting somewhere?"

The witch burst out in a fit of girlish giggles. "Oh my, the thought of Remus, in a corner with a little pout!" She laughed for a few more seconds, then shook her head. "I never thought of him that way! But it's true, he's just like a little child. That's it, actually. He didn't get his way, so now he's off to hide until he thinks he's 'punished' us enough with his absence."

"Well," Harry began as they stopped at his door. His head was slightly down-turned, casting weirder shadows on his eyes and blocking the green of them with black. "I'll be sure to let him know what all his little pouting means to me when I see him." He smiled one last time, but this time it was so obviously fake that it only lasted a second. "I guess I'll be seeing everyone tomorrow, then?"

"Bright and early," Tonks agreed. "Maybe you could do a repeat and have breakfast ready? It was delicious, even from pre-made junk-"

"Or maybe we can cook for you," Kingsley suggested, the start of his voice like a closing bell. Tonks laughed and started away, leaving him to face Harry alone.

The boy was tired, ready to collapse at the door, but he'd never do it in front of witnesses. Kingsley wanted to talk, then, wanted to get the boy to relax and let go. He wasn't sure about everything that had been said about Remus, but it all applied to Harry. This child was more willing to just play at life than truly participate in it.

But Harry looked so tired, Kingsley couldn't make himself keep the boy up any longer. He nodded his head. "Goodnight, Harry. And please, don't worry about breakfast. I'm sure I'll be able to keep everyone occupied with something or other at least until lunch." It wasn't his imagination that the boy relaxed greatly, something like relief on his young features. "I won't keep you up when you're tired."

He walked away, joining up with the still-energetic witch who was raving on about pancakes and bacon and waking up in the morning. He was trying his best to think up some distraction to just give the boy some rest.

**...**

Night was, ironically, the worst time of the day. There weren't any nightmares, as he usually worked himself to exhaustion and slept soundly. It was the time before he actually fell asleep that was torturous.

Harry tossed over to one side, felt overwhelmed by the thick blankets he'd stolen from his aunt's room, and kicked the heavy things off. In fact, he felt unnaturally hot as though he was in the gutsy hands of some fever. He kicked off the sheets and on impulse, tossed his pillow off as well. The heat was still too much, so he grouchily got up and opened the window to his room, passing the empty birdcage. Hedwig was being kept at Hogwarts the summer.

The bed was no cooler with the open window. In fact, it felt as though someone had cast a warming charm on it. Groaning, giving up on sleep even though his body was ready to shut down on him, Harry got to his feet and stumbled downstairs.

The house was unnaturally quiet. Usually, he could count on hearing the loud snores of his cousin and uncle or the nighttime pacing of his aunt as she worried what the neighborhood was thinking. Now, it was only his soft breathing and the fleshy sounds of bare feet through the house.

In the kitchen, the dishes were stacked just as he'd told them to be. More, from what might have been lunch and dinner, were added in the sink, and with so many people eating at once those numbers added up quickly. Sighing, Harry padded over to the sink and cleared it out, starting the water to run as he began to clean up.

"So, Sirius, what would you say to all this?" he murmured quietly, voice hardly a whisper. He picked up a plate and scrubbed at it roughly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I'd bet you'd say something about this being a great prank opportunity, huh? They leave all the dishes to me -- why don't I leave some pepper sauce on the plates for tomorrow, when they come back? We'd all have a great laugh and I'd never have to wash dishes again." Rinsing and drying went faster, keeping up a steady dialogue with the invisible wizard.

Harry snorted at a thought. "I bet they didn't even take Dudley to the doctor's. Aunt Petunia would be too scared that the doctor would have no idea what the problem is. Dudley's going to just have to suffer all summer long. I bet he scars from all that itching."

He buffed a chipped glass, looking at a thin line in its broken surface. "Tonks's work, don't you think? Probably bopped it against someone's head. She's the clumsiest witch I've ever met. You said something like that, right? And you're her cousin, so you'd know her better than me."

The glass got tossed.

Harry paused his work, leaning heavily on his elbows, hands still submerged in the water. "What was it like for you growing up, Sirius?" he whispered, eyes unfocused. "I bet it was nothing like I'm living. Maybe all your bad memories in that house, and then being forced to stay in there all year, maybe that's why you were so eager to just get out... maybe you were just ready to leave..."

He cleared his throat and blinked a few times, pretending that the water on his face had just been splashed up from the sink. A minute later the rest of the dishes were cleaned. Emptying the sink and rinsing it out, Harry dried his hands and padded back to the stairs. He stopped at the door, looking outside the midnight world. Everything looked so still, like a sad painting all colored in blues and yellows. It was enough to make him angrily toss off his glasses, leaving them on the desk next to the front door.

The room was cold now, enough to make him shiver when he walked in. Closing the window, Harry yawned and fell into his bed, absently dragging the blankets up with him. The first few moments of closed eyes were only images of Sirius replaying in his head, of the Department of Mysteries and of Grimmauld Place, the Shrieking Shack and the small cave outside of Hogsmeade.

In only a few minutes, he was dead asleep, mind still replaying every scene with picture-like accuracy. The images plagued his sleep until he escaped them, plunging deep enough into his mind that nothing could touch him. Exhaustion helped, keeping his body too weary to catch his mind. Deep in sleep, Harry let out a little moan and a trickle of tears, tears that he'd never shed when awake, leaked out in sleep.

The noises woke him up, soft sounds that gradually got loud enough to shock his mind. Hyper tense, Harry sat up in bed like a spring. His mind scrambled a moment, trying to shake off the once-helpful exhaustion and struggling at it. A few thoughts made it through: the Order members were a few blocks away, his wand was on his desk, and the heavy footsteps were at his door. Even as he thought it, the door to his room slowly began to swing open.

Harry rolled off his bed, taking his load of blankets with him. Their heaviness forced a grunt from him, and on the floor he could see that the door abruptly stopped moving. There were feet in the shadows of the hallway.

Maybe it was Moody or Tonks, come to check on him in the middle of the night. Maybe Shacklebolt confessed something and now the entire group was come to check to make sure he didn't sneak off to the Burrow.

Harry slowly tried to untangle himself from the blankets but they acted like weights and he didn't dare make a sound.

The door slowly resumed opening, and a pair of feet entered quietly. Thinking quick, Harry rolled with his thrice-cursed blankets beneath the bed. Dust covered him like another sheet and he fought not to cough. He jerked sharply, pulling the extra material beneath with him just as the feet came around the bed.

Harry held his breath, watching nervously and aware of just how vulnerable he was. In his mind's eye, his wand was practically glowing from where it sat on the desk. Just a casual glance around would see it, and then whoever it was in here would know that a certain Harry Potter was nearby.

"Come out quietly, boy, and nothing will happen to you," a low voice suddenly said. "There's more than just me looking for you."

The feet shuffled over to the bookcase, clumsily smacking against one of the bed's legs and unintentionally sending a shower of dust raining down on Harry. He choked into the blankets, eyes watering. The man swaggered around, going through the small room very slowly for its size.

"I know you're in here, Potter. I know you're... very close..."

"Do I know you?" Harry wanted to ask, the man's accent sounding peculiarly familiar. Instead, he scooted a little further in beneath the bed, backing up against the wall soundlessly. There were, however, other noises coming from outside his own bedroom which verified the man's statement. He couldn't tell, but there had to be more than a few people tearing through the house.

"If I find you, it'll be much worse than if you just come out," came the threat as the feet stopped where Harry's desk would be. The man rattled the desk angrily, then paced over to the window. However, the damage was done. Not in the best conditions to begin with, the piece of furniture gave a loud groan and tumbled over, apparently startling the man from how high his feet jumped.

Harry's wand rolled off into the corner of the floor.

Eyes popping open, Harry licked his lips and judged the distance between the man's feet and the fallen wand. They were too close. He bit down, thinking as fast as he could, and finally settled on an idea. Covering his mouth to dull the sound, Harry whispered, "_Accio_ wand."

The wood stick gave a limp roll towards him, making a few turns closer before stopping. Harry glared at it and tried again, this time stretching out his hand a bit. "_Accio _wand!"

It flew into his hand at the same time that the man overturned the bed completely, leaving Harry completely exposed. Automatically, Harry pointed the wand up. "_Stupefy!_" Whoever it was went down without a word. And whoever it was, he was a wizard by his dark green robes.

Relieved, Harry struggled out of his tangles. As quietly as possible, he crept to the door of his room. The wizard didn't look like a Death Eater, being without the traditional black robes and all, but who else would try to break in and kidnap him? Kidnap, if not kill outright.

Harry looked around the hall and saw nothing, but there were noises coming from perhaps the kitchen. He could imagine a load of Death Eaters so sure of themselves that they'd stop to take a snack -- maybe it was Crabbe and Goyle's parents.

There was a tree outside of Dudley's window, one that Harry had seen his cousin actually sneak down. The limbs always groaned heavily at the weight, but hadn't cracked yet. With all the noise downstairs, he doubted anyone would hear a window open.

Creeping along the walls, Harry stepped outside of his bedroom. The lights were all on downstairs and silhouettes walked along the floor. He tried to count them, but they mixed with others until it looked like a giant monster with dozens of hands was waiting for him. Luckily, his uncle had had the floors reinforced some years ago when Dudley had started jumping around after winning some video game and had stuck a foot through the floor. Nothing creaked as he closed the door to Dudley's room behind him.

The window was locked. His cousin often got scared late at night that someone was trying to sneak in and would often bar the window, but it slid open easy enough. The tree swayed welcomingly not a foot out of the window and it didn't look like anyone was even outside. Harry took a final look around and then carefully began to climb out of the room.

The tree groaned under his weight.

He climbed around easily, having learned to monkey around in trees after spending so much time escaping Dudley. A few feet from the ground, Harry leaped down and got on a running start through the neighborhood. He ducked into a backway, trying to confuse his trail by turning this way and that until he burst out into sight a few houses down from Figg's.

"MOODY!" yelled Harry, not caring what the time was. "TONKS!" He panted, running up to the door and pounding on it. "HEY! HEY!" Meowing, a cat up inside one of the windows looked at him reproachfully through the glass. "HELLO? IS ANYONE EVEN AWAKE?"

The cat in the window settled down to watch him, but nothing else so much as stirred in the darkened house. A few doors down, someone's window cracked open and an irritated voice yelled, "SHUT IT, YOU! WE'RE TRYING TO SLEEP IN HERE!" The window closed with a snap.

Harry looked at the closed door uncomprehendingly, still breathing hard from running all the way. He pounded on it once more, a little softer, and waited a moment more to still find himself alone outside. Swallowing, Harry fisted his hands and turned to find somewhere else to hide until morning. It was too unreal; where did they all go?

At the end of Mrs. Figg's lawn, a wizard stood watching him with his arms crossed against his chest. When Harry froze in shock, the wizard sneered. "Good morning, Harry."

"Karkaroff!" Harry breathed, mouth dropping open. "You're Professor Karkaroff, of Durmstrang."

"The former headmaster of that school, yes."

Harry couldn't think of anything else to say other than a blunt, "I thought you were dead. Voldemort said he'd have you killed!"

"Rumors of my death..." He sneer widened, "...are greatly exaggerated, Mister Potter. I'm afraid that Lord Voldemort hasn't the strength yet to spend on killing me." He paused, giving Harry a considering look. "However, I'm sure that a... bargaining can be arranged between me and my former master. If I offer him something in return, I won't have to spend the rest of my life wondering if he's trying to kill me."

Harry glared at him. "Go ahead and try," he taunted, turning his wand slowly in his hand. "I'm sure that even if you had something he really wanted, Voldemort would just kill you to get it. And," he brought his wand up, "if you're talking about taking me to him, I suggest you rethink that plan."

Karkaroff broke off into a fit of hacking laughter that Harry could easily grow to hate. "Ah, Potter, what makes you think I want to bring _you _to Voldemort? I could hardly slip through Dumbledore's wards if I wanted to do something like that."

Harry didn't let his wand drop. "You're going to have to try better than that if you want to fool me."

"I'm only on a mission to disrupt the Order, which I'm certain will please the Dark Lord greatly. That's what's keeping your friends, in case you were wondering. They're locked down back at your house, dueling right now with some of my men. I'll keep their attention for a few more minutes before I give the order to evacuate. See, the real reason I came here was to speak with you."

"Well, thanks a lot but I'm not in the mood-"

"Of course you wouldn't be, with your godfather's death and your isolation here."

Harry's breath hitched, and he abruptly narrowed his eyes. "Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you-"

"Aren't you even wondering if Minister Fudge ever got around to publicly expunging Black's murder convictions? Or didn't you hear about the Death Eater raids that allowed the Order of the Phoenix to capture Peter Pettigrew? There's hardly been a worse scandal than this one."

"Shut up, shut up now-"

Harry was shaking, struggling hard to control himself. Someone would have told him! Someone would have said something if they caught Peter -- everyone knew how much that would mean for him. He swallowed loudly, breathing so hard it seemed like the only thing he could really feel was the furious beating of his heart. He took a deep breath.

"You're lying-"

"And if I'm not? It's not like everyone tells you everything, or in fact that anyone tells you anything. Why do you think they send you here every summer? Protection, maybe, but isolation more so. You go back to school knowing only what they want you to know."

Harry closed his eyes, feeling blood rushing to his head at the sound of someone else repeating what he'd dreaded to himself since leaving Hogwarts and coming here. His wand abruptly flew out of his hand, and even as Harry's eyes popped open, he found himself paralyzed.

Karkaroff laughed again, starting on about how gullible Harry was, about great plans for the summer, about a lot of things Harry couldn't believe. The former headmaster raised his wand again, a wand that Harry hadn't seen before, and started some incantation that made Harry's skin tingle.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eyes, a great white thing smashed into him, knocking him down. His paralysis fizzled away.

Harry peeked his eyes open to see Karkaroff screaming, some huge collar thing hanging from his hands. Grinning wolfishly, Harry started to get up only to be knocked by the unseen white beast once more.

He grunted, down on all fours, and decided to just the heck out of there. Eyes closing, he focused his attention, and then lost it.

**...**

As quickly as the battle had begun, it was over. Moody glared around the smoking house, wondering how Death Eaters had managed to break through the wards. Dumbledore had assured him that no one could get in, that the fading spells had all be firmly strengthened to block any Death Eater attempt. He let the thought distract him for only a second, then ran upstairs, magical eye seeing ahead of him. When it reached Potter's room, he nearly sighed in relief.

The boy was fine, worse for the wear was all.Moody slowed down, taking the time to view all the damage made by the attackers. Emmaline Vance, the Order's resident warder, siddled up beside him and Moody gave her a hard look.

She answered with a shake of her head before he could say anything. "No, the wards are all fine," the witch started slowly. "Nothing's wrong with any of them--Death Eaters shouldn't have been allowed a block within this area without sending off the alarms!" She huffed, frustrated, and shook her head again. "I don't know what happened, if it was a momentary blitz, but there's nothing wrong now. I checked everything."

"Everything?" Moody pressed, his voice unforgiving of any mistake. The witch looked back evenly, and he grunted, satisfied with her answers if not with the answers themselves. No matter what she said, Death Eaters _had_ managed to get in. Dumbledore would have to be contacted again, new wards set up, new plans and escape routes thought up...

Tonks, sitting next to Potter, was talking animatedly with him, the conversation stopping as he got closer. Potter looked up with a tired frown once he and Vance walked in. "Moody, is everyone all right?"

"Worry about yourself first, boy. What happened?" The others of the team began piling in. Undoubtedly, many more were on their way, coming when the wards went off.

Potter sighed. "I was just sleeping," he started simply, "and I heard some news. When I realized someone was in the house and trying to get into my room, I tried to get up but these things," he gestured angrily to the pile of dirty blankets on the floor, "made me fall down. I managed to roll under the bed just as he got in, and summoned my wand just when he found me."

"Summoning charm," Tonks confirmed with a smile. "That's what woke us up and got us moving here.

"The Ministry felt it, too," Vance suggested from beside him, nervously tugging at the shawl around her shoulders. She looked around. "We better not move anything. If they see evidence of the fight themselves, they won't be able to argue against it."

Arabella Figg came in, her face lined with stress. "That's all of them for sure," she informed the room wearily. "My cats are already heading home in high spirits, climbing down trees and going the longabout way, crisscrossing through the neighborhood." She seemed to suddenly hear what Vance had said and paled. "The Ministry? I best be going, then! Wouldn't want them to catch a Squib at the scene, they'd like to pin it all on me."

Moody nodded at that. "We don't all need to be here," he announced. "Everyone not an Auror, you're coming with me." There were a lot of groans, but reluctantly the ordered people got up and followed. Potter laughed a little, waving goodbye to the rest of the group while loudly proclaiming his intention to return to sleep.

Outside, he quickly summarized what Vance had told him earlier, and the small group of Order members didn't like the situation anymore than he did. They were only turning onto Figg's street, still muttering between themselves, when they were stopped by a pair of garbed officials with their hands held out in front of them. "I'm sorry people," the first informed them cheerfully, "but a baseline broke-"

"Gas line," the second corrected.

"Ah, yes, _gas_ line broke only a few minutes ago. The noise you heard was the, um-"

"Explosion."

"That's the word! The explosion. No need to be alarmed, of course. Your local polite men-"

"Policemen."

"-are taking care of everything!" Speech over, the pair smiled politely.

"Right," one of Moody's wizards chuckled. "Lads, I've seen better acts than this. But, if you'll excuse us, we're on official business and need to get through."

Before the pair could say anything, Moody pushed his way to the front and looked them over carefully, giving them just as much of a chance to recognize who he was. When he walked on by, the pair were too flabbergasted to say anything. A witch took pity and patted one's arm. "Don't worry, dears. I'm sure that all the muggles will keep away like you planned."

"My house!" Figg gasped. "They've taken over my house!" The older lady began to jog ahead of the rest to where squads of Hit Wizards mobbed the area.

One of the lieutenants looked up with a frown. "Who let you by?" he demanded.

"I live here!"

"Sir," an assistant broke the conversation, coming up looking shocked. "Sir, there's evidence that _Harry Potter_ has been here recently."

"Harry Potter?" The lieutenant's eyebrows shot up. "What the devil is that boy doing here?" He suddenly looked stricken. "By Merlin, you don't suppose this was his hiding place during the summer."

"If it was, then Dumbledore's gotten old. The wards on this place are pretty shabby."

"Harry Potter doesn't live here," Figg informed them smartly. "I live here. But he visits every so often -- as recent as this morning. Potter lives about three blocks down that way."

"Who are you, again?"

"My name's Arabella Figg and I'm a Squib. This is my house. What happened?"

The lieutenant winced. "A lot. Would you mind telling me what you were doing out of the house so late at night?"

The rest of the group caught up at this time, and Moody once again forced himself to the front, taking charge. "What's this all about?" he demanded darkly. "Huh? Why isn't anyone down at the Potter house? It's just been attacked!"

Everyone in the nearby area paled, and the lieutenant stammered out, "A-attacked? When?!"

Figg disappeared into the house, taking most of the Order members with her to escape the inevitable questioning and Moody was left to explain about the short Death Eater attack which had left most of the house in shambles.

"It's pretty much what happened here," the lieutenant revealed reluctantly. Aside from him and his aide, the rest of the Hit Wizards had flown immediately to Privet Drive. "We were sent to investigate magic performed so close to muggles, and found that it was a miniature Death Eater raid." He shook his head in profound disbelief. "It wasn't really true, everything in the _Prophet_, until I actually saw them. Only for a second, mind, then they apparated away, but that was long enough."

He gestured for Moody to follow. "But this, this is the confusing part. Maybe with all your experience, Moody, you'll be able to figure this out for me."

He led onto the front lawn, where Moody suddenly realized that all the once-green grass was gone. His eye whirled and informed him that for three houses on either side, all grass was vanished, leaving only dead plots of dry, dry dirt. On impulse, he stopped to touch the dirt. He had to jerk his hand away from the freezing chill of it.

The lieutenant nodded. "I'm not surprised you noticed. Someone performed an enormous spell here, one I can't even recognize. All the ground for a ten-yard radius has been put through what looks like a tough chilling charm, the grass just dying straight out and soil getting frozen stiff. I'm guessing it's just the after-effects, though, and won't last through the night. But here, look here."

He pointed down in the middle of the lawn. "They start right here, but the trackers I've set on this say the imprint isn't right for just standing still. Whatever it is leaped here without touching any other part of the dirt, and then strolled off to the street." He let out a deep breath. "I don't want to be the one telling the world that there's a monster that size roaming loose in muggle neighborhoods."

It was a footprint, obviously, a pawprint to be exact. Made from some sort of dog -- but it'd have to be the largest dog Moody ever saw. Sirius, in his animagus form, had been enormous for his breed, Irish wolfhounds known for being one of the tallest of the dog family, and Sirius had nearly come up to Moody's waist, a good 36 inches from the ground. His pawprints, however, could have fit twice into a single one of the prints here.

"Big dog."

"_Big_ dog. Or coyote, wolf, fox, whatever. Aside from it, there are no other animal tracks. The Death Eaters walked on the other side of the lawn, so there are plenty of clear prints to photo. The beast must have leaped into the middle of the lawn for whatever reason, walked off to the street, and after that we can't track it at all. It didn't even leave a scent to follow, for crying out loud!"

"You didn't see it at all, then?"

The lieutenant shook his head. "Not at all, thankfully. We arrived when the Death Eaters started attacking -- trying to break their way into the house but with too little numbers, I suppose. The beast must have been gone before the attack."

Moody frowned, looking over everything once more. "I haven't the slightest idea what it is," he admitted, looking stormy for it, "but maybe someone else does."


End file.
